While attending EIFF 2010, Scotland had the longest consecutive days of sunshine on record, what a great way to enjoy a festival! Add in some local single malt whisky, and you have the makings of unparalleled fun. Only kidding. Sort of. Two weeks of non-stop movie-watching heralded some real gems in a consistently entertaining line-up. Certain themes emerged from this year’s crop...Crime A fantastic crop spanning the crime genre, ranging from an Oscar winner, to minimalism, to biography and to Scarface-style excess. Whoah! Hello! What more do you want? The small screen has been kicking its bigger brother’s butt for years. Since Homicide: Life on the Street, we’ve had The Wire, Dexter and The Shield. The modern batch (Brooklyn’s Finest, We Own the Night, American Gangster, etc.) just have not been delivering (with the odd exceptions – Narc and Training Day). Don’t fret though... ... the film of the Festival... The Secret in Their Eyes. An epic, emotionally engaging Argentinean crime saga, from the perspective of prosecutors who are fighting laziness, incompetence and corruption to catch the suspected perpetrator of a brutal murder. Well drawn characters, great acting and sharp dialogue, all encased in a handsome looking film. There is a seeming one-take shot so breathtaking that you want to rewind it; it starts tracking in from the sky on a football match and ends in a chase around the stadium. Controversially this won the Oscar for Best Film in a foreign language in an extremely strong year, but when something is as gripping as this I really don’t mind. Adrenaline = The Robber. A bold statement. This Austrian film lacks character analysis or societal commentary, but instead is about compulsion and the resilience of the human spirit to avoid captivity. A serial armed bank robber is being hunted. Oh yeah, he’s also a gifted marathon runner. A first-rate thriller stripped of any fat. It shares a similarity with another two in the Festival (The Hunter and Police, Adjective), minimalism. All three eschew dialogue, opting for facial expression and actions. The Hunter and Police, Adjective are a commentary on law enforcement in their respective Iran and Romania. The former is a very well made evolving tale of an ex-con attempting to reintegrate and fortune not smiling; while the latter is an exhaustive procedural look at pedantry and time-wasting. The Brits offer Mr Nice, the adaptation of the autobiography of drug-trafficker turned writer, Howard Marks (played by Rhys Ifans). Like Johnny Depp’s Blow, the accusation of glamorisation could be levelled, but it is not as bleak as that, nor as grim as Midnight Express (what is though?). It passes the time but is forgettable; not as good as director Bernard Rose’s last two Tolstoy efforts. Hitmen messing about in Germany’s mountains. Snowman’s Land. Funny but the lead is too passive to be especially enthralling. That cannot be said of the latest from B-Movie crime-meister studio Europa Corp, owned by Luc Besson, which sees Jean Reno come out of mob boss retirement to find out who decided to turn him into a human sponge. A serious amount of people die in the relentlessly paced 22 Bullets.

Westerns There’s nothing like a good Australian allegory. See Jindabyne, Samson & Delilah and The Propoisition if you are in any doubt. Red Hill joins them, starring Ryan Kwanten (a.k.a. Jason Stackhouse from True Blood) as a deputy joining a rural force who has a pregnant wife in tow. This is like the reverse of Se7en, a man here leaves the city and encounters a serial killer. A highly capable escaped convict has broken out of prison and is on the rampage. It appears random at first. If movies could have descendants, this would be one from Clint Eastwood’s back catalogue. High praise cannot be aimed at The Last Rites of Ransom Pride, a messy post-modern Western that is unmemorable and unenthralling.

Supernatural This year’s crop of supernaturals was weak. There was a “comedy”-zombie-horror from Greece, Evil in the Time of Heroes. It’s no Zombieland, nor even as funny as the over-rated Shaun of the Dead.Skeletons is like The X-Files, except more lame. Two investigators, working for an ambiguous company, are hired to look into people’s backgrounds. There’s a mechanical-mystical element to this paranormal examination, that seems to be aiming at realism; but overall the film is flat, with poor direction and cinematography, by the numbers writing, and charisma-less performances. Even worse, is H.P. Lovecraft’s The Dunwich Horror. This has an intriguing premise – a horror film set in 1929 without visuals, i.e. a radio production in cinema surround sound. I couldn’t wait. This could be boundary pushing. It wasn’t. No atmosphere, no thrills and clunky dialogue and acting. Another attempt?

Documentary Some solid work here. The People Vs .Gorge Lucas is documentary as essay. The best examples are Taxi to the Dark Side and Capturing the Friedmans. The subject matter doesn’t lend itself to scaling those heights, but it is hugely satisfying for any Star Wars/Indiana Jones fans who feel let down by the bearded one. A very aware piece that says it is funny how folks get angry about these franchises, and argues why. It does also touch on an important issue that once art is given out for public consumption, who owns it, the public or the creator? The only gripe is the cop-out of an ending. The rest of the film is backed up by evidence, while the overall conclusion is not. Who doesn’t love director Steven Soderbergh? Put your hands up. Ok, those with their hands up, get out. For the rest, he’s got a new one - And Everything is Going Fine, a beautiful ode to raconteur and actor Spalding Gray. Well researched and edited, this is Gray’s life in Gray’s words, put together from hours of footage. The man is a wit of the old school, and if you like the old school, you’ll like this.Restrepo is named after a soldier and an outpost in Afghanistan, and follows the troops on the ground. The access the filmmakers get is impressive, and some of the footage is better than what we get in the news. However, it lacks context and analysis, which might be fine for some, but not for me. One also has to wonder what compromises were made to get the permissions for these recordings.

Animation The four feature animations I caught were all top quality. The two big ones were Toy Story 3 and The Illusionist. Both extremely moving. The latter the superior, as it was braver and harsher; though a day will come I am sure when Pixar gets to be that bleak. Toy Story 3 seems to be the end of the journey for the saga, and a fitting, fulfilling end it is. Contrast the way the last two Shrek films have foundered. The Illusionist is also about the end of an era, and really for adults. It has similarities to Laurence Olivier’s The Entertainer; while also retaining director Sylvain Chomet’s rare use of words spoken, intricate detail and expressiveness of gesture that made Belleville Rendez-Vous so refreshing. From one of Hayao Miyazaki’s assistant directors, Mai Mai Miracle has the feel of a Studio Ghibli. It is spiritual and elegiac, about growing up and imagination and absence; set in a rural idyllic. The opposite, from the UK, is Jackboots on Whitehall, a laugh-out-loud look at an alternate reality if the Nazis had successfully invaded Britain during the Second World War. The ropey animation heightens the stereotypical plucky underdog spirit. Not quite a satire, more a scatter-gun of jokes aimed everywhere.

Friends and Family Father figures loomed large, both real and metaphorical. Soul Boy, a Kenyan picture over-seen by Tom Twyker, had the director’s tightness of storytelling. Only an hour long, it sees Abi, a brave, resourceful kid on the cusp of manhood, trying to save his weak-willed father’s soul. A spiritual narrative on what it means to be a man, as well as a look at class, race and poverty; with great music. Robin Williams, on the hand, covers up his son’s accidental death via auto-erotic-asphyxiation (is that the right technical term?) in World’s Greatest Dad. He does this by faking a diary that turns out to speak for a generation. A fantastic comedy of awkwardness about the tragi-comedy of not succeeding, which deftly manoeuvres between hilarity and pathos – the seamless transitions in tone are amazing. It is also a satire on high school and those that exploit the dead. Paul Dano has two father figures in two films, one played by a crotchety Brian Cox, in The Good Heart, and the other by a crotchety Kevin Kline, in The Extra Man. The former was a satisfying morality tale about the positivity of the human spirit, while the latter is another disappointment from the directors of the awesome American Splendour; it was annoyingly anachronistic and eccentric, about men searching for companionship and their place in the world. Male bonding had two polar opposites. One a classic. The other absolutely dire. The former was a new print of The Man Who Would Be King, introduced on stage beforehand by a bona fide legend Sean Connery!! The latter was, Huge, the directorial debut of Ben Miller. Connery and Michael Caine, like two supernovas lighting up the screen, are rogues in Asia attempting to make their fortune during the height of the British Empire. Huge concerns Johnny Harris and Noel Clarke as two aspiring comics attempting to make it big. A film about comedians made by a comedian without any jokes. It was so cringily woeful, especially when characters call each other hilarious. They aren’t. Not even as good as Adam Sandler’s Funny People. Female bonding. Chase the Slut is a mumblecore look at reputations, friendship and religion. The titular Chase wants to get out of her home town but her car is busted. Her wealthy friend Tibbs, in a Dangerous Liaisons-stylee, offers the repair money if she is able to seduce a devout, innocent young man. An intriguing look at trying to reinvent yourself and amity. Thelma, Louise... and Chantal is a road movie about mature women bonding and reappraising their lives, having been abandoned by their men. It is uplifting on learning to like oneself without being cloying. A Werner Herzog – David Lynch collaboration was always going to be... different. Lynch presents My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?, which appears to be about mental illness and over-bearing mothers, though it is far from clear. Very well shot, as par the course for director Herzog, but it is opaque and repetitive. Shame.

Bigger than Us Twp epics. One of history, the other of ideas. If you’ve studied the period or watched La Reine Margot, you’ll be aware of the Catholic-Protestant clashes in 16th century France. The Isabelle Adjani picture was from the perspective of Margot, but here it is from her husband – the titular, Henry of Navarre. A grand biopic dealing with themes of religion, politics and sex. A heady mix. It shows how a leader can be in constant danger.Les Signes Vitaux is a Quebecois study of the disintegration of the body due to age. We see this through the eyes of a young female volunteer at a care home, who struggles with her own demons. The music would not be out of place in something like Blade Runner, and it lends the mood an other-worldly and unusual impression. As few words are uttered, this heights even more the importance of the body. Ageing, perhaps one of the last elephants in the room of the Western world. Ambitious.

Romance Bouncing back was a major element of the romance genre. I don’t know whether I was in a soppy frame of mind but I enjoyed The Rebound; about a 40-something lady having a relationship with a 25 year old. It was funny, likeably acted, and I was caught up in the ending. I’m lame, what can I say? Heartbreaker is a seriously polished French rom-com. Romain Duris’ Alex Lippi works with his sister and brother-in-law as a team who are hired to help women move on from negative relationships; and then low and behold he meets a real challenge in Johnny Depps’ Mrs, Vanessa Paradis. Kind of like the reverse Hitch. A more realistic look at heartache came from Honeymooner, a Brit flick set over the period when the lead would have been on his post-nuptial holiday. He was dumped before the wedding. Interesting interactions lift this above the norm, but flat cinematography place the film into the realm of a TV movie rather than something for the big screen. I spent most of Ollie Kepler’s Expanding Purple World disliking it, mostly because the lead, Edward Hogg (The Bunny and the Bull), is so wet in his performances, though by the end I found it an affecting portrait of grief, guilt and mental illness. Grief and guilt are also dealt with in Get Low, about a giant anti-climax, that at first feels what-the-eff?!, then you realise that was the point. It helps that the cast include Robert Duvall, Bill Murray, Sissy Spacek and Lucas Black. Charismatic performances, as you’d expect, build to a story of regret and the ability to judge one’s own actions. An awful title – My Words, My Lies - My Love – is a German rom-com with an unusually dark edge. A waiter David (Daniel Bruhl) is making goo-goo eyes at a literature student, but he is off her radar. As one does, David finds an undiscovered manuscript in a cabinet he purchases at a market. He claims it as his own to impress her, and it so happens to be a modern masterpiece. She publishes it in his name behind his back, turning it into a phenomenon. Throw into the mix a vulture who is the only other person privy to his secret, and you have a comedy of errors. The director said afterwards that the ending is ambiguous, which was different to my original interpretation, and actually it works, and it works well. One of the true joys of the EIFF was Au Revoir Taipei, a fun crime caper set over one night as a couple try to get a package across the city. It is peopled with charmingly drawn characters who all work harmoniously together. “Don’t you feel bad that you need something tragic to happen to profit from it?” Samantha “What, like a doctor?” AndrewIt Happened One Night, Midnight Run, the race against time movie. Done right is awesome. This one was done right: Monsters. The most dazzling of the whole Festival. Six years ago NASA discovered life outside this planet. On returning, the probe bringing back samples crashes over Mexico turning a large part of the country into an uninhabitable zone; as huge aliens have now spawned there. Andrew, an ambitious photo journalist, is ordered to escort the boss’s daughter, Samantha, safely back home. Romance, action, striking cinematography, and an allegory to America’s treatment of its southern neighbour. Director-writer-cinematographer-production designer-special effects designer, Gareth Edwards, take a mutha-effing bow!